


Hot with a Chance of Snow

by phoenixflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: Sam and Dean steaming up the car windows when they are supposed to be on a stakeout. That's all.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Hot with a Chance of Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12 Days of Wincestmas and a little bit me showing off for a cute boy who said "write about them steaming up the car windows" so I did. Enjoy!

It was fucking cold. Snow was drifting down outside, deceptively light, but it was already building up on the ground. The roads were going to be hell getting back to the motel. That is, if the suspect they were staking out showed up before Dean and Sam froze to death. 

Sam shifted in the passenger seat, huddled deep in his hoodie and two layers of jackets. “Why can’t dad do this part, again?” 

“He’s busy with research,” Dean reminded him, half-heartedly. 

“We can research,” Sam bitched, and Dean did his best to tune him out, wishing for the soothing patter of rain on the roof of the Impala, rather than the oppressive silence of snow. It was only 8 in the evening but it had been dark for hours and the town was quiet - all the people holed up like mice in their burrows for the storm. These flakes were just the beginning. The radio said maybe five inches tonight, but apparently that wasn’t enough to deter cursed-artifact dealers. Sam rubbed his hands together and said, "I'm cold." 

"Me too, Sam," Dean grunted. "Quit whining." 

"I'm not whining," Sam whined. "I can't feel my fingers." 

"Jesus, would you shut up?" But Dean was reaching across the seat and dragging his brother toward him, tucking Sam under his arm. Sam had gotten tall in the last year but he was still all bones beneath his layers, and he was actually shivering a little. Dean could feel the tremors. He curled his brother's hands in his own, blowing on them as Sam nestled his head into Dean's shoulder. 

The snow was falling faster, whirling in thick, lacy curtains through the air, obscuring the doorway they were meant to be watching. Dean was squinting at it when Sam's icy fingers slid beneath his shirt, onto his bare belly. "Goddammit, Sam!" 

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, not at all sorry sounding. His breath was hot against Dean's ear in the cold air. 

"Your hands are freezing." 

"Sorry," Sam repeated, and then, "Dean?" 

"Huh?" Dean was thinking about the roads again. Fucking midwest. 

"Dean," Sam said, in a meaningful tone, his chilly fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Dean's pants. 

Dean jumped. "Sam!" 

"C'mon, Dean. It's been ages." Sam had twisted his hips, one knee up over Dean's legs so his dick was pressed to Dean's thigh, hardening. 

"We can't," Dean groaned. "We're supposed to be watching the... fuck." 

Sam bit down on Dean's earlobe and then released it. "There's nothing happening. It's fucking snowing, he's not going anywhere tonight." 

"But..." 

"Just really quick, Dean." Sam was rubbing against him, panting in his ear. "Please? Please can I fuck you, Dean? It’s been so long." 

Fuck it, Dean was weak for that. And also for the hand down his pants, fingers just teasing at the head of his cock which was hardening in his jeans. “Okay but we gotta keep an eye on the building.” 

“Whatever.” Sam kissed him, hard, tongue in his mouth, teeth on his lip. He kissed exactly the way Dean liked - because Dean had taught him to. Dean slid both hands under Sam’s jackets, where he was fire-hot with teenage hormones. 

Groaning a little, Sam snapped the button on Dean’s pants and went to pull them down. 

The vinyl seat was freezing on his ass, and he swore at Sam again, but Sam just pushed at his hip until he rolled over, getting his knees under him on the seat. There was some flailing as they adjusted themselves, and Dean almost hit the horn with his elbow. That would be a great way to blow their cover on a stakeout. 

Finally he ended up facing the driver's side window with Sam kneeling behind him. “Hurry up would you? My ass is gonna freeze.” 

"Don’t worry. I'll keep you warm," Sam said, and when Dean was spluttering at how fucking bad that line was, he got two spit-slick fingers up inside him. 

The air was cold on his bare ass, but it had stopped being unpleasant and turned exciting. Sam's hands were warm as he ran them down Dean's sides and spread his ass. And Sam was right it had been ages since they did this. The most they could get away with, most times, was hurried handjobs in gas station bathrooms, and stolen kisses with their dad passed out drunk in another room. 

The stretch stung, with nothing but spit for lube, but on the scale Dean measured pain it hardly registered. Sam got three fingers in him, twisting, and Dean reminded himself to check the building across the street again. Panting, Dean lifted his head, dick hanging heavy between his legs. No change in the door they were watching. He dropped his head back, forehead brushing against the car window. The icy shock made him jolt back onto Sam’s fingers and they both gasped. 

“I’m ready, Sam,” Dean gritted out. “Just do it already, would you?” 

Sam did. The head of his dick was blood-hot and already slick with pre-come, and he made a noise like a wounded animal when he pushed inside Dean. Dean grunted, wincing a little and bearing down, feeling sweat break out beneath his shirts. It was intense, just on the edge of pain, making his whole body feel lit-up and tender. 

Sam curled his fingers hard over Dean’s hipbones, thrusting into him with a sharp, abrupt stroke. He always went a little crazy when he fucked Dean. If they had time, he’d be gentle and thorough prepping him, kissing him over and over, stretching him with his fingers and tongue until Dean shoved him off and ordered him to get on with it, but once Sam had his dick in Dean he always lost control. 

Dean braced himself with one arm against the car door, metal handle icy on his palm, reaching down with the other hand as Sam started thrusting. Dean liked it fast and rough, loved how wild it made Sam, like he would die if he had to stop before getting off. Their balls slapped together with the force of his thrusts, little shocks of sensation. Dean’s dick was dripping. He wasn’t cold anymore. 

He tried to check the building again but the windows were completely fogged up, nothing but moving white shadows outside. The sounds of their panting and the creak of the vinyl seats was louder in the muffled silence of the snowy world. 

Sam never lasted that long doing this, not if he hadn’t gotten off already, but Dean didn’t need it to take long. His brother was bent over him like an animal, hips tight up against his, jackrabbiting into him with hard, shallow thrusts at just the right angle. Dean felt his balls drawing up, tension coiled at the base of his dick, toes curling in his boots. The contrast of the chilly air on his hot face was feverish. His orgasm rushed up, tingling through his veins. Oh fuck, he was going to get come on the upholstry. 

Swearing, he yanked his shirt down in time to catch the first spurt of semen leaping from his dick. His shoulder was jammed painfully between the seat and the door, Sam heavy on top of him, but Sam was gasping and going still, pressed deep inside him. He made little whimpering noises as he came, hips jolting minutely. Another little shock made Dean’s dick twitch and drool. 

Finally, he felt the tension ease out of Sam’s body. “G’off me,” he mumbled, elbowing his brother. Sam slumped back with a contented sigh. Unfolding himself gingerly, Dean stretched his neck and pulled his pants back up awkwardly. He was going to have come leaking out of him all night, and his sweat-damp clothes were rapidly starting to cool. 

Making a face, he pulled his sticky shirt away from his stomach. “Gross. Let’s go back and tell dad it was a bust. I need a shower.” 

“Great.” Sam was grinning, and Dean eyed him suspiciously. 

“Was this your plan to get out of stakeout all along?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition and listening to the engine roll over with a purr despite the freezing temperatures. She really was a good girl. 

“What’s wrong with stakeout?” Sam said, still beaming. “I love stakeout. We should do this more often.” 

“Bitch,” Dean muttered as he wrestled the Impala carefully onto the icy road. “Next time I’m coming on  _ your  _ shirt.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


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